


Lunar Eclipse

by saunatonttu



Series: Eleven Days of KuroTsukki [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Idols, M/M, Prompt: Music, kurotsukkiweek day 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4261614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunatonttu/pseuds/saunatonttu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukishima Kei is one idol amongst several others, with no real distinguishing talents, and he's alright with keeping to himself.<br/>Kuroo Tetsurou is a new manager with attractive smiles, and he's the change in Kei's life that he doesn't need and, most importantly, does not want. </p><p>But the change is inevitable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lunar Eclipse

The upbeat music was just fast enough for Kei to start nodding along to it and his feet to feel the familiar itch to move to the beat – months, years of practiced choreographies had instilled the instinct into his muscles until he didn’t even acknowledged the urge completely before he was doing it.

Eyes closed and hands over the headphones, Kei could almost picture the choreography that would fit the fast pace. In the same scene, he could also picture the fans singing along, adoring and mesmerized as they typically were by Kei’s icy stage personality.

The music slowed down after what Kei assumed to be a chorus, a few rhythmical pounds from drums echoing in the background music.

The moment could only last for so long, and as the music faded, Kei reluctantly pulled himself back into the real world and opened his eyes, lashes fluttering along the movement.

As expected, several people were staring at him with expectant looks on their faces, and even though he was used to it, Kei still wanted to fidget. It wasn’t like his opinion on the beginning of the song mattered _that_ much, honestly – Tsukishima Kei was as much of a product as the song itself.

“So,” Yaku, one of the songwriters, started with a resigned huff when no one else said anything, “how was it, Tsukishima-kun?”

Yaku was one of the few people that Kei was even relatively close to in the recording studio asides from his manager assigned from the studio itself, and even that was thanks to Sawamura Daichi’s professionalism and gentle chastise that straightened Kei up when he was misbehaving. (To be fair, he only misbehaved around certain people – all of whom weren’t working on him and his career.)

Kei rubbed at the side of the headphones, fingers running on the smooth material as he put some thought into his response.

 “It’s very… catchy,” he said eventually, headphones now resting on his neck instead of his ears as he fiddled with the cord. “Do we have a choreography yet or is that not until the lyrics are ready?”

A collective sigh from the gathered people broke the tension, smiles spreading over their faces as Kei’s wordless approval of the song registered in their heads. Kei resisted the urge to scowl. These people didn’t need to be so cautious around him. As if he would ever throw a fit over a song that he might or might not like.

It wasn’t his business to care either way.

“No choreography yet,” Sawamura, Kei’s ever so steady manager, said with a nod and a small smile on his face that made Kei feel like he was being treated like a child despite being already in his twenties. Kei clenched his jaw, wearing a mask of calm over his features as Sawamura continued. “It’s being worked on, but the lyric are needed for that as well.”

Well, Kei felt dumb for asking that now, then, but he didn’t let that show. Instead, he tilted his head forward in a small nod, eyes wandering between the other people of the recording studio that had made a contract with him all those months ago. They seemed to be even more on the edge than usual, if the exchanged glances were anything to go by.

The silence was disturbed only by the whirring sounds from air conditioning.

 _Aren’t these people supposed to be professional,_ Kei wondered, but then again he knew most viewed him as difficult to handle even at his most polite. _They themselves constructed the stage persona, so why is it so hard for them to differentiate between that and the real me…_

Sighing to himself as he unplugged his headphones from the recorder and plugging the cord into his music player instead, Kei gave them a smile. “Was that all, or is there something else? I have a practice session later this afternoon.” Pointedly, he glanced at the nondescript clock hanging on the wall of the office. He still had time to catch lunch with Yamaguchi if this didn’t take too long.

“As a matter of fact,” Sawamura sighed, and Kei closed his eyes. Go figure. “The directors decided that it’s time for you to perform together with another idol of our studio.”

“I don’t do groups—“ Kei began, but Sawamura shushed him with a wave of his hand and a firm downward curve of his mouth. Kei closed his mouth, but he didn’t hide the disgruntled expression this time.

“It’s with someone you know already, naturally,” Sawamura said with a dismissive wave of his hand, eyes intent on Kei’s face. It was unnerving, having someone stare at him like that, and Kei pursed his lips as he tucked his fingers between each other and waited Sawamura’s briefing to end.

“Yamaguchi Tadashi,” Sawamura elaborated when Kei remained impassive. “We’ll discuss everything later this afternoon, after you’re done with your dancing session. How is your throat doing, by the way?”

“Better than last week,” Kei said. The thought of Yamaguchi and him co-operating for a concert wasn’t the most displeasing one he had had that day, but Kei knew it was bound to be exhausting as Yamaguchi’s stage persona (and, to be fair, Yamaguchi himself) was a lot louder and energetic than Kei himself could even force himself to be.

Yamaguchi, as good a friend as he was, might not be the best fit for him on this one, but Kei preferred him to someone whose working methods and personality he didn’t know.

 Sawamura (“feel free to call me Daichi,” he had said when they had first met) hummed thoughtfully. “If you feel up for it, some actual singing practice. Don’t overdo it.”

Kei almost _laughed_. There really was no danger of that happening ever; the only reason his voice hadn’t allowed him to sing before was due to an incidental cold rather than overworking himself. “Whatever you say, Sawamura-san.”

“I told you to call me Daichi,” Sawamura sighed, shaking his head a little in tired exasperation, but he let it go with that and snapped his file shut. “I think it’s about time for lunch.”

That was an easy enough statement to agree with.

 

 

The building itself was enormous, and keeping tabs on the most important places for him was a pain, but the long months had given Kei enough of an idea as to where everything important was (the recording rooms, the gymnasium for dancing and practicing, and most importantly the shelves that had records free for the idols and the employees to take).

The cafeteria was located in the first floor, which meant uncomfortable elevator rides with people that smelled like cologne and sweat under the heat of the summer sun. Kei felt like he was choking, as usual, but the headphones covering his ears soothed away the worst of the anxiety. Not many people would attempt a conversation that way – if anyone even wanted in the first place, seeing how Kei had an icy reputation amongst the majority of employees and artists alike.

“Tsukki!” Well, there was an exception to every rule.

Kei tilted his head just enough to notice the other young man, freckled and several centimeters shorter than Kei, speed-walking towards him, out of breath and visibly agitated. Wearing his casual clothes, Yamaguchi Tadashi looked very little like his stage self – which was a relief, considering the outfits the idols were made to wear.

Recent inspiration for costumes had been taken from a magical boy anime, go figure.

“Yamaguchi,” Kei hummed as he tugged his headphones down, heartbeat decelerating now that he had his friend nearby.

“What’s wrong?” he asked while digging out his wallet from his pockets, mostly for the free lunch tickets he had recently gotten from a studio-only event. Winning stuff from a lottery was the only thing he was lucky at, and he was fine with that.

“Did you hear about it already?” Yamaguchi whispered as they entered the cafeteria and picked up trays for their food. “About the collaboration with our teams?”

Kei nodded, lips curling down in dismay as he noticed the smile on Yamaguchi’s lips. He had known what the other’s reaction would be, but it didn’t cease to make his stomach sink a little at the realization that he was the only one that really didn’t want to do this.

Not that _that_ was anything abnormal, or even unusual.

“Sawamura-san mentioned it briefly,” Kei mumbled as he picked up a couple of rice balls onto his plate. Those would do for the few hours before the snack break that Kei probably wouldn’t even use. “More talk in the afternoon after I’m done practicing.”

Yamaguchi hummed as he filled up his plate with considerably more food than Kei, who looked away in disgust as he waited for Yamaguchi to finish up before heading for the drinks.

“It sounds so exciting, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi started, and Kei could feel the litany of words that waited behind Yamaguchi’s lips to be unleashed. Kei didn’t mind, exactly, but…

There was always a _but_ with him.

“You sure you’re okay with that?” Kei murmured after listening to Yamaguchi a good few minutes, long enough for them to have found a free table and even sit down. “I figured you’d want your first shared concert to be with Hinata of all people.”

Kei bit on his rice ball as Yamaguchi gave him a flat, are-you-for-real look. Kei looked away, swallowing down the pieces of food. It wasn’t like he had a bad self-esteem (though he did) – or, well, that wasn’t what this was about anyway.

“Tsukki, you think I’d ditch the chance I have of performing with you just for the sake of someone I have been hopelessly crushing on since, uh, I don’t even know?”

No, he didn’t think that.

But he did think it would be amusing to watch Yamaguchi flail around in misery that was typical for those that had, eugh, romantic feelings for someone.

Yamaguchi pursed his lips at Kei. “Tsukki, you know me better than that. Professionalism – and our friendship – comes before anything else.”

“Yes yes,” Kei waved his hand dismissively. “I was joking, Yamaguchi.”

“Speaking of Hinata, though—“ _Oh boy, what did I get myself into?_ “—did you hear about his single—“

“It’s been vastly successful, yes,” Kei interrupted with a roll of his eyes, wiping his fingers with a napkin. “As if he doesn’t remind me every time I see him,” he added in a low voice, irritation seeping into his tone at the thought of Hinata Shouyou, another idol that worked for the same recording studio as him.

Yamaguchi laughed nervously, leaning across the table to flick at Kei’s arm – a habit he picked up from Akiteru of all people, Kei thought grimly. “He doesn’t mean anything bad, you know. He just gets excited easily.” The words _we could both learn from him_ didn’t need to be said for them to be audible and to hurt Kei’s ears.

This was why he didn’t like Yamaguchi sometimes.

“Uselessly hot-blooded people irritate me,” Kei shrugged, rubbing at the side of his arm Yamaguchi had flicked at previously as he evaded Yamaguchi’s eyes. “Especially the patronizing type.”

“You’re pretty hot-blooded yourself, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi smiled at him knowingly, the sparkle in his eyes promising nothing but mischief and teasing.

“Am not.”

“You _could_ be,” Yamaguchi amended with a soft sigh as he wiped his face with a napkin as he finished his own lunch.

“Did they assign you a new manager yet?” Kei was quick to change the topic with a roll of his eyes and while leaning back against the chair. He wasn’t in any particular hurry to get to warming up for the practice.

“Uh-huh,” Yamaguchi nodded, settling back as well. “I haven’t seen him yet, but he’s supposed to come around today to discuss the concert with us.” Yamaguchi bit at his lower lip, eyes darting down to his lap.

“The reporters still harassing you about your last manager?” Kei asked quietly.

“Not as much as before,” Yamaguchi said, still staring down to hide whatever expression that was on his face. Kei had seen most of them already, but regardless, if Yamaguchi wanted to save his face a little, he’d make no comment on it.

This wasn’t a topic Yamaguchi liked in particular, so Kei decided to drop it – not like he liked it either, since watching Yamaguchi fall into a bout of misery was not fun.

“Let’s hope your new one knows their job, then,” Kei murmured, sipping at strawberry juice as he graciously looked away, outside of the large windows that covered one side of the cafeteria completely.

People were passing by the windows, as usual, all of them with a clear direction in mind, and for a moment Kei felt a stabbing jealousy prickle at his heart. They knew where to go, not only in the city but also in life in general, whereas Kei—

“Oh, I’m sure he does,” Yamaguchi said, sounding a lot more cheerful than just a moment ago, and Kei suppressed a thin smile from spreading to his lips. “I haven’t met him, but I know he’s coming from Hokkaido and—“

“ _Hokkaido?_ ” Kei nearly choked on his drink. “Why would anyone from Hokkaido be coming—“

“Oh, he was on long-term vacation, apparently,” Yamaguchi replied with a shrug as he arranged his utensils neatly. “I didn’t catch his name, but I’m sure there won’t be any problems like with my last one.”

“Is Hinata’s eternal optimism contagious?” Kei huffed as he stood up. “Anyway, I should get to my dancing practice.”

Yamaguchi glanced at Kei’s plate. “You sure you ate enough?”

“If I ate any more, I’d throw up in the middle of dancing.”

“Take care of yourself, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi said quietly, lips curling in concern, and Kei gave a stiff nod of his head.

“You too.”

 

 

The room Kei used as his “dance studio” was small compared to the actual practice rooms, but it suited his purpose well enough as he didn’t need others around right then.

(Pros of having Sawamura as his manager: despite the stern way Sawamura pulled him along usually, Kei was allowed this small privilege of unsupervised time for self-practice.)

Many things could be said about Kei’s singing ( _it lacks any real effort_ , someone had once commented, and it was true), but his dancing… well, even if Kei didn’t intend to get so into it, he couldn’t help himself. With his height, no one expected him _not_ to be clumsy on stage.

It brought Kei some sick sense of satisfaction when he proved them wrong.

Before he started, Kei checked his phone for messages one last time. There was one from Yaku (one of the few that seemed to see through at least one of Kei’s layers of facades) and another from Yamaguchi, who tended to send him good luck messages even despite Kei insisting that they were completely unnecessary.

Yaku’s message, though…

_don’t run away from this, tsukishima_

Kei raised an eyebrow.

_way to be overdramatic, yaku-san. I’m not ditching just because I might possibly want to._

Then Kei picked a song and turned up the volume, putting it on repeat before he went to change into lighter clothes (folded neatly on top a lonely desk in the room, just for him)

After five repeats of the song, Kei was finally warmed up, the dull ache from sitting around so much as gone as it ever would be.

 The sixth repeat began, and so did Kei’s dance.

The song wasn’t as fast as the one whose tempo he had been forced to listen to earlier, and it gave room for Kei to angle his limbs, to take extra steps, to let go of his focus as he sunk into the music.

There was no rush; he could go at the pace most comfortable for him, and it felt a little like a freedom compressed into a tiny, sweat-reeking room.

As long as he got these moments for himself, everything was fine. Dealing with people that refused to see him for what he was, he could do that as long as he had the room to himself every so often.

It was fine – Kei was fine.

After the song ended – and entered the seventh repeat – Kei stopped for a moment, a lingering smile on his face as he recalled how good a particular spin had felt, his body had twisted to accommodate the rhythm of the adrenaline rush in his veins.

“Whoa, that was pretty nice.”

Kei nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a man’s voice over the music, but he hid it behind a withering glare as he turned to look at the disturber of his well-deserved peace.

The person – a man a little over his twenties, possibly older – held Kei’s phone in his hand, and then the music halted, replaced by silence that made Kei’s skin itch irritably.

“Has no one told you it’s rude to disturb other people’s practice?” Kei asked, lips pursing as his fingers entwined with one another before him to repel the intruder’s presence.

At least the man – with a _disaster_ for a hair – had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t want to barge in, but that song beckoned me, y’know.”

“Don’t tell me you’re his fan,” Kei grumbled, the hair on his neck bristling nervously as he realized that his dark secret had been discovered by someone.

Not even Yamaguchi knew that Kei liked to dance to Hinata Shouyou’s songs.

 _Especially_ not Yamaguchi.

The other grinned, lips curving up and dimples shoving on his tanned cheeks. “Maybe, but the same applies to you, doesn’t it?”

Kei considered his chances in bribing this unknown man into silence. They were very slim, as he had no idea of the other’s interests and why he even was there – his face didn’t ring any bells, but it wasn’t like Kei paid much attention to people outside his team.

“As if,” Kei snorted, clasping his hands tighter as his fingers kept fidgeting anxiously. “There is such a thing as good dance music without it being otherwise enjoyable.”

“Sure, sure,” the other allowed with a short laugh as he approached Kei, gingerly extending his hand to offer the phone back to Kei. “Would you mind dancing to another song?”

Kei only now took notice of the golden glow of the other’s narrow eyes. Half-lidded, they gave off almost lazy impression, but up close Kei could see intensity and twinkles.

Kei hadn’t thought anyone’s eyes even could _twinkle_ , but that pair certainly did.

“I’m in the middle of personal practice session,” he said stiffly, “please leave.” He must be relatively new if he had no clue about Kei’s habitual isolation for a good hour or two for dance practice. _He’s not Yamaguchi’s new manager, is he?_

“Ah, alrighty then. Just thought I’d be able to give you a few tips on dancing… since you’re an idol and all, Tsukishima Kei-kun.” The golden eyes gleamed again as his lips rose into a challenging smile.

“There are other times for that,” Kei shrugged, fingers tight around the phone he had taken from the man that, at least, seemed to realize Kei’s personal space boundaries as he had taken a few steps back after handing the phone to him.

“Is that your way of inviting me to your practice?” The confident, borderline cocky, smirk that showed off two rows of white teeth made Kei turn his eyes away and huff. Baseless confidence was always annoying.

“It isn’t.”

“Awh, I thought we were off to a good start.”

“We’re not,” Kei said bluntly, sucking in a deep breath. “Please let me be…” He had no idea of the other’s name, and he hated nicknames, so the rest of the sentence hung awkwardly in the air as Kei lowered his gaze to the other’s suit and the crooked tie.

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” the man said, bowing his head a little as a late greeting. “If fate will let us meet again, it’d be my greatest pleasure.”

 _Your tie,_ Kei wanted to say, but Kuroo had already turned away, a hand up in a gesture of farewell. “I don’t think that fate would be that cruel on you,” he said quietly as he watched Kuroo’s wide shoulders and back disappear out of the door.

His practice and routine disrupted, Kei didn’t know what to do with himself.

 _Kuroo Tetsurou_.

It was a name that promised nothing but trouble, and Kei didn’t like trouble despite his insistent habit of riling Hinata up whenever they met face-to-face.

What he wanted was some peace and quiet.

To keep the status quo as it was.

 

 

An hour and a half later, and Tsukishima Kei could swear that some higher power had _something_ against him.

Not the people that were seated around the table – though some of them probably loathed Kei for his nonchalant, impassive attitude to absolutely everything – but something else. A god, if Kei were willing to give their existence the benefit of a doubt.

“Oh, no.”

Even Sawamura Daichi seemed speechless by the appearance of Yamaguchi’s new manager, who was dressed neatly and carefully in an expensive suit, and the grin that seemed to be permanently glued to those lips.

Kei hadn’t seen Sawamura so distressed before, so Sawamura’s obvious fretting over Kuroo Tetsurou’s appearance was mildly amusing. Or would have been, if Kei didn’t feel like Kuroo’s eyes lingered on him for longer than what was appropriate.

“Sawamura,” Kuroo’s grin was shit-eating and way too amused, “it’s been a while.”

Yamaguchi, on the other side of the table and next to Kuroo, shot Kei a questioning look. Kei shrugged in response. As if he had any idea what the deal between their managers was.

“For the love of—please, why is it _you_ of all people,” Sawamura groaned, nose wrinkling as his eyes flashed with what Kei assumed to be horrific memories of the past shared with Kuroo.

“Now, that’s not a nice way to greet your colleague,” Kuroo clicked his tongue, but Kei could tell from his body language that he was enjoying Sawamura’s tormented expressions way too much. “We’re old buddies, Sawamura. Frankly, I’m offended.”

“One word, Kuroo: college.”

“Good times.”

“Nightmare.”

Kuroo laughed. “You’re so dishonest even after all this time.”

Yaku cleared his throat. “Sawamura, Kuroo… we’re here for work.” The songwriter seemed vaguely annoyed, and that vague annoyance turned obvious when Kuroo flashed him a smile.

“Yaku, it’s been too long—“

“I got a black belt since the last time we saw each other.”

“Oh shit,” Kuroo muttered before he took a deep breath. “Time for reminiscing is for later, Sawamura. Let’s get down to business.”

Sawamura, by Kei’s side, sighed, but took his hand away from his face. “Of course.” Sawamura sounded tired already and the meeting hadn’t even actually commenced yet. Kei could relate, somewhat.

Kuroo stood up from his chair, throwing a relaxed smile at everyone. “To start things off,” he said, “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou, Yamaguchi Tadashi’s new manager. It is a pleasure to meet you all; I hope our co-operation will go smoothly.”

Kuroo’s eyes trailed over to Kei as the others murmured their greetings in return, and Kei tried hard to pretend he didn’t feel unnerved by the other.

 _Things are about to change_ , Kei felt it in the air, saw it in the gold-flecked eyes that observed him quietly, sharply, reminding Kei of a cat.

Kei forced himself to smile pleasantly.

It wasn’t hard after all this time he had spent on perfecting his fake smiles.

“Alright,” Kuroo hummed as he sat down, “let’s get down to business.”

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's taking on another multichaptered fic [points at self and whispers "why"] 
> 
> disclaimer: the idol system is not based on real life, so if it seems wonky, that is why.


End file.
